


Cut My Teeth And Made A Killing

by LeafStitch



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Asshole Caliborn, Dubious Morality, Engagement, English Family Mafia AU, Established Relationship, Family Drama, M/M, One-Sided Caliborn/Dirk Strider - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Pesterlog(s) (Homestuck), Some Fluff, Spitefic, Stalking, Tags May Change, im continuing to write this out of absolute spite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-06-12 01:59:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15329187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafStitch/pseuds/LeafStitch
Summary: Dirk Strider is in over his head. Maybe he's always been in over his head. Maybe becoming engaged to the nephew of a mob boss was a bad idea. Maybe angering the son of a mob boss was a bad idea. Not that he knew any of that. Maybe joining the family is the next logical step.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is gonna get more.............. yknow as it goes on. rating probably wont change, tags really really will once like the rest is written. title from fuck a silver lining by panic at the disco ~~which i dont really like but its a good line lmao~~

You run into him at a coffee shop, 4:49 PM. It is not an encounter you expected, nor an encounter you wished to have. You watch his face split into an awful grin, exposing fangs in his rosy-cheeked, cherubic face. He’s Jake’s cousin, and you hate him. He’s more or less a skinhead - ugly combat boots, the faintest stubble on his scalp, a bad attitude, the whole package. He’s wearing fucking suspenders. At least he's left the fedora (it's a trilby) and  _ Rick and Morty _ shirt behind.

You get your drink and sit at a booth, opening up your laptop and adjusting your glasses. More embroidery commissions, more coding project emails. You hunch over as he walks to your table; you pretend to be more focused on your emails than on the 6’5” behemoth lumbering your way. He slides into your booth, a sugarbomb frappuccino in his hand. You don’t look up.

“Dirk,” he says, as if that’s a greeting. You don’t respond. The tech company you applied for has gotten back to you.

_ Dear Mr. Strider, _

_ Thank you for your interest in joining our team. Unfortunately, we had a large number of qualified applicants, and could not offer you a spot at this point in time. _

You already applied to graduate schools. You don’t need to read this kind of email again. Next.

_ Your order has shipped! _

Three days. Sweet. Those gloves will be yours soon, so very soon. Next.

_ diiiiiiiiiiiiirk _

_ dirkdirkdirkdirk  _

_ lookit _

Roxy has sent you a video of a cat in sunglasses. She could have texted it to you. Next- 

You don’t get a chance to see the next email, because your laptop quickly shuts. The clock on the wall above your head seems to be ticking a little too loudly.

“What do you want, Cal?” He grins at you, sipping his drink.

“That’s no way. To greet. A friendly face,” Cal simpers, giving you a hurt look. You want to hit him. “So fucking rude. Dirk.”

“What do you want.” Your eye twitches. You should have just gone home after getting your coffee, or, better yet, have used the drive-thru.

“Do you. Want to grab. Coffee sometime?” Before you started dating Jake, you flirted on and off with Cal. Not that you meant anything by it. You’d been doing this since high school, but you eventually stopped. Not that he gave up. You’re not sure he even graduated high school. He graduated with you, sure, but Roxy told you Cal’s father paid for him to get his diploma. Neither he nor Jake wound up going to college. 

“We’re already in a coffee shop.”

“Great!” he says, grinning again, “Allow me to buy you a drink!”

“Already have one.” You go to open your laptop again, but Cal’s hand is still firmly on top of it. You opt to take the laptop and put it back in your bag. Cal takes a long sip of whatever unicorn cupcake swirl drink he ordered. “Isn’t that drink a little girly for you?” You should have left as soon as you got your coffee.

“The drunk bitch. Recommended it.” Your hand curl into fists under the table. “And sometimes. She is right.” He nods knowingly, sipping his drink. “Would you. Want to come back. To my place? We could watch. The volleyball anime. Hold hands. Mess around.” 

“I’m engaged.” You hate the volleyball anime.

“Like that. Has ever stopped. Countless men.” You take a deep breath, exhale through your nose. “We could go. To a bar.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Yes. But I could get you to!”

“I’m engaged and don’t drink.”

“I wonder if you. Will be easier. If you are tipsy. Maybe I can. Change your mind.”

You stand up, push your chair in at the table, and start to leave. You make it to the front doors, into the parking lot, before Cal grabs your wrist. Your eyes go wide, but you calm your breathing. He’s touching you. The person you never wanted to touch you is touching you. “Dirk. Where are you going? We were having. Such a nice time.” 

You look at him. You look at the lady getting out of her car a few spots away from you. She looks nervous, holding up her phone. She mouths to you,  _ “Do you need help?”  _ You look back to Cal, jaw set.

“Go fuck yourself,” you snarl, wrenching your arm away and kicking him in the shin with as much force as you can muster. He grunts in surprise and stumbles back.

“You bitch!” he shouts as you walk, head down, towards your car. He’s still yelling after you. You lock the door as soon as you get in, starting the car up and pulling out of the parking lot; the shouting muffles and fades away.  You try to ignore how fast your heart is beating.

Your coffee is still hot.

* * *

 

When you get home, you lock the doors, all of the windows, and pull down all the blinds, 5:23 PM. Maybe it’s overkill. Do you set the alarm? Yes. Do you turn on all the cameras and sit in your surveillance room in the dark? Yes. Did you text Jake? No. You have not yet texted your loving fiancè who is currently at work. You have not yet told him you ran into his skinhead cousin. You have not told him his skinhead cousin hit on you. You have not told him you kicked his cousin in the shin. You have not told Jake anything. He thinks everything over here is fine, probably. Your last update said, “Getting coffee.” You’re a terrible boyfriend. You’re a terrible fiancè. You should be telling Jake what’s wrong, and you haven’t yet. Jake loves you very much; you should tell him you ran into his cousin. He will be disappointed if you don’t tell you, and then something bad happens. Hopefully nothing bad happens. You have the feeling something bad is going to definitely happen.

Your eyes are starting to hurt, sting under the harsh monitor lights.

You think you have Tetris Syndrome. Tetris Syndrome is the unofficial pseudo-medical term referring to when a person plays video games, most notably Tetris, so much that it begins to shape their habits, thinking patterns, and dreams. A common symptom of this seeing tetrominoes when one closes their eyes. Your eyes have been glued to this screen for three hours, legs pulled up to your chest, chin on your knees. Sometimes your eyes glaze over and you zone out as the blocks fall faster, clicking faster and faster to fit them into rows. The rows vanish, the blocks fall, the round ends after 110,000 points. You might dream of the blocks tonight. They’re called ‘tetrominoes.’ You hate that word. Portmanteaus are your least favorite type of linguistic nuance. Tetris dominoes. Tetrominoes. Fuck. You start a new round.

Your phone buzzes - you misclick, fucking up your entire round. Damn. New message from Jake.

golgathasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeustestified [TT]!

GT: Why have you armed all of the security systems?  
TT: Oh. You noticed.  
GT: Yes, dirk, i noticed! I do get notifications when the ‘panic mode’ system is armed!  
GT: Whats going on?

Well. Guess you’re just gonna fuckin’ tell him. Whatever. It’s no big thing.

TT: Guess who managed to piss off your cousin?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time for that talk >: ) warnings for mentions of past child abuse and death i guess??

Here you go. This should be fun.

TT: Guess who managed to piss off your cousin?  
TT: It was me.  
GT: Which cousin?  
TT: Cal.  
GT: Oh dear.  
GT: Pissing off john would be easier.  
TT: John’s harmless, he doesn’t try to flirt with me.  
TT: Cal, on the other hand, doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no,’ so I kicked him in the shin and told him to go fuck himself.  
GT: Cal isn’t harmless, strider.  
GT: Hes a little bugger when he wants to be.  
GT: Which is any time.  
TT: I wouldn’t call him little, either.  
TT: He’s, like, a foot taller than me.  
TT: He’s a little scary, but it’s no big deal.  
GT: Are you in the security room?  
TT: Yes.  
GT: Are you okay?  


You’re basically having a panic attack.

TT: Nah.  
GT: :(  
GT: Did he threaten you??  
TT: Maybe.  
TT: I guess.  
TT: It just sounded like sputtering.  
GT: Dirk i  
GT: Never mind.  
GT: Ill take care of it.  
TT: What?  
GT: Im going to take care of it.  
TT: I know how to defend myself, Jake.  
GT: I know you do.  
GT: But i was raised in this blasted family.  
TT: Is this more of your secret family life?  
GT: I was raised with him. I know how to get at the fella.  
TT: Okay, because I was starting to suspect the whole “mob family” thing again.  
GT: :)  
TT: Suspicious.  
GT: :)  
TT: Jake.  
TT: Are you ever going to tell me what your extended family does?  
TT: And don’t give me that ‘Gran’s an astrophysicist’ shit.  
GT: Uncle egbert is a businessman!  
GT: It’s boring stuff, really. Works in accounting.  
TT: I know that part.  
TT: He’s the good side of the group.  
TT: John does prank stuff, his Nanna does prank stuff.  
TT: His dad is boring.  
TT: I mean Cal’s side.  
GT: Jane bakes!  
TT: Yes, but what does Cal’s side do?  
GT: Callie helps jane out at the bakery.  
GT: :)  


You hate when Jake uses emoticons. It means he’s not telling you something, it always means he’s not telling you something.

TT: Jake, seriously.  
TT: Their father, what does he do?  
GT:  Dirk, i cant tell you.  
GT: I cant even say what *i* do for money.  
TT: As far as I know, you’re an instructor at a shooting gallery.  
GT: :)!  
GT: Yes, right.  
GT: That pays in part for our home.  
TT: I assumed you did something else as well, the same way I do. What are you, then?  
TT: Arms dealer?  
TT: Deepweb hitman?  
TT: Regular hitman?  
GT: :)!

You’re getting fed up.

TT: Don’t you :) me, English.  
GT: I think the real question is!  
GT: If we are going to have dinner tonight.  
GT: Because if so, im feeling pizza.  
GT: You?  
TT: Pizza works.  
GT: Brilliant! Any topping requests?  
TT: Pepperoni?  
GT: Okie dokie!

You take a deep breath.

TT: Answer me one question.  
TT: Will they kill me if I know anything?  
GT: Not.  
GT: Kill?  
GT: Probably.  
TT: But?  
GT: Okay, alright. GT: Really, i just-  
GT: Its complicated.  
GT: The wouldnt hurt you.  
GT: Its one of our rules to keep everything balanced, yknow?  
TT: Like, “Don’t hurt outside loved ones?”  
GT: More like “i wont run off so long as you leave my friends alone.”  
TT: But what if I’ve angered the head’s son?  
TT: Wouldn’t that make him the heir?  
TT: What if I’ve angered the heir to the literal mob, Jake?

Are you panicking? Yeah, a little.

GT: I told you, ill handle it.

You take another deep breath, looking up from your phone to the monitor. 5:46 PM. Your high scores stare back at you. _DIRK - 124,426. DIRK - 110,087. DIRK - 100,991._ Your fucked-up round score stares from behind the darkened GUI, _5,536_ hiding behind all the other good rounds you’ve had.

TT: Okay.  
TT: I’m going to trust you on this.  
GT: Thank you.  
GT: If he  
GT: If anything feels off, do tell me.  
GT: Perhaps he.  
GT: He might actually fancy you!

You cover your mouth with your hand to stop a snort. ‘Might?’ ‘Fancy you?’ Jake is cute when he’s clueless. Not that this is a laughing matter. Oops.

TT: What he said to me today tipped me off.  
TT: Inappropriate comments and propositions and flirting.  
TT: Despite me telling him I’m very much taken.  
GT: In which case!  
  
GT: Im taking care of it!  
TT: He has a very limited vocabulary, you know.  
TT: Vulgarities in every sentence.  
TT: And very short sentences, at that.  
TT: Truly astonishing, since he’s related to you.  
GT: I am well aware.

You sit back in your chair, running a hand through your hair. You didn’t style it today, no bulletproof gel getting in the way. No crunchy anime hair. You might like it better this way.

TT: Are you going to order the pizza, or should I order so you can pick it up on your way home?  
GT: Ill pick it up if you order it.  
TT: I’ll call it in under ‘Jake.’  
GT: Very well. 

You put your phone down and move to stand up, extracting your legs from beneath you and finally putting your feet back on the floor. Your phone buzzes again.

GT: Um.  
GT: If youd really like, ill answer any questions you may have.  
GT: When I get home.

You have many. Jake gets off work at 6, usually gets home around 6:30. It will be dark by then.

TT: That sounds reasonable.  
GT: Brilliant.  
TT: See you pretty soon?  
GT: Yessir!  
GT: <3?

You smile down at your phone.

TT: <3

* * *

 

You pace when you talk on the phone, walking back and forth through the living room and doing your best to focus on the conversation, 6:02 PM. Maybe it’s the nervous energy, but you’re pacing a little faster than usual.

“One regular pepperoni pizza for pickup. No, no breadsticks.”

You flinch at every passing car, every sweep of headlights through your window. Jane gave you a very small clock that sits on the shelf in your kitchen. She said it would make the house feel more homey. So it sits, _tick, tick,_ ticking away beside the toaster. It sets your teeth on edge. She had good intentions in getting it for you. You’re losing focus.

“What? The name? Uh, Jake.”

Jake is finishing up at work by now - the range closes at 6, and there’s always some cleanup to do. The closest place to get pizza from is notoriously busy on Wednesday nights, the pizza will be done by 6:35. Jake will return at 6:45, given there is no hassle at the pizzeria. You hate days like these -  early March, fully dark before seven, no snow but a hell of a lot of rain. Miserable weather, nervous energy, the constant paranoia that the next car to pull into the driveway won’t be your boyfriend’s Jeep, but something a little too fancy to be in your little two-story townhouse neighborhood. And then Cal will step out.

“Half an hour. Thank you.”

You hang up the phone, 6:05 PM. There has to be some show on at this point, right? You sit on the couch and turn the TV on. You flick through what feels like millions of channels. News is too stressful, kids shows are getting worse, the History channel barely shows history anymore. You settle for the latest ghost hunting show, zoning out as Zach and Brad or whatever the fuck they’re called run around in the woods and get scared when one of them steps on a twig. Headlights shine through your living room window, and go dim. The sensor light in the driveway lights up as a figure gets out of the car, carrying a rectangular box. You still jump at the knock on your door. 6:45 PM. You must have really zoned out. The ghost hunters are explaining how they didn’t find anything. You turn the TV off, and get up to answer the door.

“Good evening!” Jake says, smiling at you as you open the door. He has his keys in one hand, the pizza box in the other.

“Evenin’,” you say, letting him into the house. He pecks you on the cheek as he enters, placing the pizza box on the table. You follow, going into the kitchen. “D’you want a drink? Water? Soda?”

“Please.” He’s already sitting at the table, rubbing his face with both hands.

“What would you like?”  
  
“Something on the strong side, if we’re... sharing.” Oh. Right.

“I’ll see what we have.” You turn around and open the cabinet, finding a half-full bottle of whiskey, among other things. It’s not a wine night, you know that much. You take out the bottle and pour a small glass for Jake, and get water for yourself. You bring the glasses to the table, sitting across from Jake.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the glass from you. He’s smiling, trying to placate you, you think, but you notice how his leg is already bouncing under the table. You open the pizza box and grab a slice. The two of you eat in silence for a few minutes, before you place the pizza crust back in the box.

“Let’s start small,” you say. Jake looks up. “What do you do?”

“Uh.” He picks up his glass, takes a gulp, and makes a face, putting the glass back down. “I suppose… hitman sums it up best.”

You saw this coming. You saw this coming and your blood still runs cold. “...You’ve killed people?” You love Jake. You really love Jake, he’s made the last three years the best in your life, he’s asked you to marry him and you said yes. And he’s killed people. Your voice was so much weaker than you wanted it to be. Jake nods.

“Yessir.”

“Is Cal’s dad the... the boss? The head of it all?” You were reaching for a second slice, but you pull your hand back.

“Yes,” Jake says, taking another bite of his pizza. He pauses, though. “But Cal isn’t… heir. So to speak.” You always assumed Cal would inherit whatever it was that kept him rich, whatever it was that let him buy the drugs he’d press you to take with him. You think he assumed that as well. “It’s… work-talent based.” Jake takes a deep breath. “Which means… I am.”

Oh.

“...Oh.”

Jake nods, taking a long drink. “It’s a recent development. And partly why I’m sharing now.”

“Next in line. And if you take it…” You trail off. If he takes it, it would become a part of your life as well. “That makes sense.”

“Cal isn’t very pleased.” He takes the crust from your first slice.

“I’d imagine so. He gets mad at little things, so…”

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to take the offer.” Oh. That’s. You weren’t expecting that. You fidget in your seat.

“I- I don’t really think I can… relate, with this. I’ve always been part of the ‘keep your head down and your nose clean’ crowd.”

“I know,” Jake says, “You’re part of why I might decline.”

“... You want to keep me out of it.” It’s a realization. You’ve known Jake for nearly twelve years; he’s kept you out of it this long.

“I want to keep you safe.” Admittedly, your heart swells. You really do love him. This revelation is testing you, a little, but you love him. “It’s nasty business.”

“What…” It’s time to change the subject. You pause, not sure how to phrase the question. “How does Callie work into this?”

“She isn’t involved any more.” You pick up your glass, taking a few sips of water. “Uncle- he never really expected anything from her. Wanted her out of the house. Doesn’t think women can do much, you know.” You nod. “But that saved her, so…”

“I’ve seen her shoot. She had some training.”

“She’s one hell of a shot, don’t get me wrong.” Jake laughs slightly. “She’s still an English. She just--” He pauses, smile fading. “I started in high school, Dirk. That was my after school job.” You put your drink down, dread sinking in your chest and settling somewhere in the bottom of your stomach. “Me and Cal never had- had a choice.” His voice breaks halfway between words, but he forces a smile.

“...You had an interest in archaeology.” You lean forward, cupping his cheek. He laughs quietly again, closing his eyes.

“And I never went to college, now, did I?” He didn’t. You can’t remember him ever talking of applying, just congratulating you and trying not to look too upset when you told him you’d be going to school across the country. “I was… too busy, I guess. With the ‘family business.’” He sits back in his chair, and you pull your hand away.

“You always told me it was travel.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. He never told you where he was going, or how the trip was once he got back.

“I couldn’t tell you the truth! How could I?” Jake stands up, and you stand quickly to follow.

“You couldn’t have, I know,” you say, following him into the living room. He drops onto the couch heavily, staring at the ceiling.

“If you want to,” he sighs, “If… you don’t want to be involved with this malarkey, I would understand.”

“It’s interesting, sure, but I’d greatly prefer to not be, like, targeted.”

“I mean being involved with me, Dirk.” Oh. You don’t want that. “I’m not asking you to join the mob, I would never! But…” He finishes the rest of his drink in one gulp. “There’s people you don’t fuck with. And I wouldn’t want you falling in with them and then everything becomes terrible and--”

“Jake.” You cut him off, he’s going to get carried away if he keeps going. “I know, sweetheart.”

“I understand your fear, Dirk old bean, but you’ve been safe thus far and I don’t want to mess that up.”

“I know. And I’m grateful for that.” You kiss him on the cheek. Jake sighs.

“I wouldn’t ever want you to- to be in danger.”

“I know.” You think you’re going to be saying that a lot, in trying to placate him. “If it means anything, I prefer living like this. I don’t want to be a part of it.”

“I don’t want you to be a part of it either!” Jake throws his arms up, before running both hands through his hair. “But there are- I mean--” He sighs again, slumping into the cushions. “I mean the reality of it is that I won’t likely ever be able to fully escape this sort of thing. And you--” He glances at your hand, the ring on your finger. “You can’t be involved with me and not have it in your life, at least a little.”

“I think I’ve been part of it since the first date, Jake.” He chuckles weakly.

“Well, yes. But…” Jake sits up, rubbing the back of his neck. “If I take the offer… It’ll be a little more than that.”

“What… would it entail?”

“We could... move into the house. And I would be. Gone more.” You don’t know how much you like that. “And we’d likely see more of my family.” Something occurs to you.

“Does Cal live there?” You sit up, remembering what happened just a few hours ago. “I know I was joking around and stuff about making him mad, even though that did actually happen, but in reality I don’t feel safe around him.” Your throat is closing up, it’s getting harder to breathe.

“No!” Jake puts his hands on your shoulders, cups your cheek. Looks you in the eye. “I wouldn’t-- Dirk, I wouldn’t think of having you around him or my uncle.”

“Why do I assume your uncle is worse?” Your words are muffled in Jake’s hand. You close your eyes.

“He’s… He’s horrendous.”

“How… how so?” You bite the inside of your cheek -  Cal isn’t a paragon of virtue. He isn’t a paragon of basic human decency. He’s barely human. Jake looks away from you, gritting his teeth. His hands leave your shoulders, balling into fists.

“I don’t… I don’t think the horror stories are fair to tell at this juncture.” He takes a deep breath in through the nose, holds it for a few seconds, lets it out through the mouth. “But let’s say not all of my scars are from outdoor adventures. Both… physical and otherwise.”  
  
You frown and scoot yourself close to Jake, putting your head on his shoulder and slipping an arm around his back, like a one-armed hug. “Oh.”

Jake shrugs. “It’s fine, Dirk. It’s in the past.”

“Doesn’t sound ‘fine,’ Jake.” It makes you sick that someone would hurt Jake.  Something in you burns at the thought that someone would want to hurt him. And then you remember Jake’s face, when he’d come back to school with a black eye and a defeated smile, and how he’d brush you off if you tried to worry, and the fight goes out of you. “I was always worried when you were out of school for days at a time, but--”

“But it made me better.” He scoffs. “Tougher, and all that malarkey.”

“You always looked so upset. Wouldn’t tell me what was bothering you.”

“Couldn’t tell you what was bothering me.” You always had a feeling someone was hurting him at home. You always had a feeling he was lying when he said he got into another fight. You find his hand and squeeze it. He laces your fingers together, smiling against your hair. “But you’ve always been there for me.”

“You’ve always been there for me. Felt I should do the same.” You pull him a little closer.

“But you don’t have to be! I know this is a lot to take in.”

“You didn’t have to be there when I was 14 and shitty and only out to you and Roxy.” You’re not going to let him think you want out of the relationship. You still want to be here, you still want to be with him. “But you were there. And I wanna be here for you.”

“But this is bad!” Jake says, “This is not a good thing! And--” Jake pauses, sighing. “--And I’m not strictly a good bloke.”

It’s not a good thing. He’s right. You can’t make light of this, you don’t know how you even would.

“You--” you start, not sure where to go with this, “You didn’t choose to do what you do.’

“No, but,” Jake sighs and shakes his head, “But I don’t hate it. And I’m good.” Unease churns in your gut; you pull closer to Jake. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s…” You sigh. “It’s okay.” You rest your head on Jake’s shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment. “I love you.”

Jake untangles your fingers and puts his arm around your shoulders. “I love you, too. So much.”

“And I trust you,” you say. He kisses the top of your head.

“I wouldn’t hurt you, ever. I haven’t let you get hurt, I won’t let you get hurt. That’s a promise.”

“Y’know the whole ‘would you rather be right or be happy’ thing?” Jake makes a confused noise, tilting his head. “Usually, I’d prefer to be right. But…” you chuckle, “This is one of those times when being right kinda… sucks.”

“I know.” Jake nods, “I know, I’m sorry.” You pull your legs up onto the couch, up to your chest. You want to be less tense; you want to be smaller. “Would you rather I have kept fibbing?”

You shake your head.

“I would have found out eventually.”  You could have figured it out sooner, probably. You could have asked sooner. You could have followed up on every inkling you had the last twelve years. You can beat yourself up about it later. “...Can you tell me what makes your uncle so horrible? Anything that doesn’t hurt too much, I guess.”

“Everything?” Jake raises an eyebrow. “He’s… cruel.” You… could have guessed that. “He likes to train his kids personally, with weapons and such. And I- er--” he stops, rubbing the back of his neck, “-- I mean. He’s. Touch-y.”

“...Oh.” The churning unease sinks like lead in your gut, guilty. “I can see where Cal gets it from.”

“Yep!” Jake forces a cheery tone; that guilty feeling sinks further.

“Sorry for bringing this all up.”

“You deserve to know what you’re getting into, love.”

“... I’ve lost my appetite.” You need to put the food away. You need to have some type of order in your house.

“Me as well.”

“We should clean up.” It’s not that you should. It’s that you need to. You need to do a lot of things. Jake nods, and you stand from the couch, limbs stiff, movements stiffer. You walk into the kitchen and close the pizza box, the food only half-eaten, and shove the box into the fridge. There’s so much room. You need to go grocery shopping. Later. You’ll do it later. Jake keeps quiet, taking your glasses and washing them in the sink. You close the fridge and stare at the door. You need time to process.

You turn once you’re finished, going into the hall and up the stairs, opening the bedroom door and leaving it open as you walk in. Jake follows; you can feel him lingering in the doorway. You stare at the bed, before turning to Jake.

“Do you want me to leave you alone, love? Go somewhere else?”

“No,” you say, a little too quickly, “No, don’t go.”

“Should I sleep on the couch?”

You nod. “That might… be for the best.” You run a hand through your hair. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t.” He starts to leave, but stops. “Dirk, if there’s anything I can do…”

“I need to sleep on this. Process everything.” Jake nods. “I love you.”

“If you want me to go, I will.” You nod, going forward and hugging him tightly. He hugs you back, holding you just as tight.

“Love you,” you mumble into his shoulder, “You’re one of the most important people in my life.”

“I love you so much,” he says, “I know this is a lot. I want you to know that I. I love you more than anything.”

“More than anything,” you agree, taking a deep breath, “I trust you.”

“I try.” He’s trying to smile.

“And you’re very sweet, you know that?”

“Again, I try.”

“I know.” You try to smile.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You nod, pulling away just enough to kiss Jake once, before you let go.

“I’m gonna try to get some sleep,” you say.

“Okay, darling.” Jake sighs softly. “I’m--” You nod, starting to close the door. “I’ll be here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed! i love the feedback! <3  
> fun fact! dirk's high score in tetris is my actual high score in tetris, and his failed score is the score i got when i played a game mid-writing this
> 
> ill be getting back to this very soon! work had kept me from writing u~u


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw ur third chapter is twice as long as ur first two combined  
> theres like fluff in this but the family drama really really outweighs it so im not gonna tag it  
> warnings for caliborn-typical rude language

You don’t sleep very well. This isn’t a surprise -  you almost never sleep well. But this night is worse. You toss and turn, your pillow never cool enough, your blankets all the wrong texture, there’s never enough warmth under the covers, your room is freezing. You want to scream.

You give up around five, dicking around on your phone and listening to whatever’s playing on the radio. 6:02 AM, you smell food cooking. 7:13 AM, Jake has left to go on his run. 7:59, Jake returns, and you hear him come up the stairs to shower. You still don’t get out of bed. He goes back downstairs .You close your eyes, sighing, and sleep for maybe fifteen minutes. Better than nothing.

Your phone buzzes from the nightstand, 8:48 AM.

You roll over, grasping blindly for your phone, and find you have a new message.

undyingUmbrage [uu] began jeering timaeusTestified [TT]!

You don’t recognize this handle.

uu: undyingUmbrage sent a photo! <08030758am.jpg>  
uu: STAY ALERT. STuPID WHORE.

You open the photo. Two-story townhouse, white siding, brown decorative shutters, white door. A green Jeep in the driveway. And Jake, blurry in the frame, opening the front door.

Your feet hit the floor before you know you’re moving, almost fall out of bed in your panicked state. You crash into the wall at the top of the stairs and run down, finding Jake in the living room, tending to his houseplants. A plate of half-eaten fried eggs sits on the counter, yolk pooling in the center. He looks up, startled.

“What is it?”

Wordlessly, you hand Jake your phone, hands shaking. This isn’t good. This isn’t a good thing. A user you don’t know but have suspicions about is sending you photos of your house, and you just found out a guy you hate is the son of a mob boss. And these two people are probably the same person. You can’t focus.

Jake reads the message, frowning at your phone.

“It’s Cal, right?” Jake nods. “What does he mean.” You’re pacing. “What does he mean, Jake? I know this can’t be related to our conversation, but--”

“Absolute child,” Jake mutters, handing your phone back over, “Another blasted tantrum, the scum.”

“I don’t- You don’t think he’s- y’know, serious?” Another text comes in.

uu: I KNOW YOu ARE ONLINE. DO NOT IGNORE ME. BITCH.

Your phone clatters to the ground.

“Dirk, darling--” Jake bends down to get your phone, biting his lip. He types something back, frowning.

You shake your hands in their sockets, wishing gravity would finally tug your joints loose, would finally allow your tendons to fall to the ground, allow your bones to bleach in the patch of sunlight coming from your window. You stop pacing, running both hands through your hair.

“I- I’m getting too worked up over this.” Your voice is high, rushed. “I’m getting too worked up, it’s just an empty threat, it’s not like he’d--”

“I’m going to make a call, yeah?” You stop, looking up. Jake places your phone on the coffee table. “Would you like me to stay here while I do so?” You nod, neck stiff, and turn nearly ninety degrees, walking into the kitchen. You have a routine to complete. You almost drop a bottle as you refill your pill box. When you turn around, Jake is dialing into a phone with a sleek, black case. Jake has a Spider Man case. You frown, but sit on the couch, He probably just got a new one, nothing out of the ordinary. You don’t believe that. Jake paces around the room, speaking quietly to the person on the other end.

“What do you mean you don’t know where he is.” Oh. “We had a deal, Uncle. My pals don’t get hurt, and I’m a good lad, remember?” He pauses. “Yes, yes. And I held up my end of the deal.” Another pause. “No, I told you--” He stops short. “Are you threatening me?” You don’t like this line of conversation. Your brow furrows, pulling your legs closer to your chest.

“Oh, well, that’s hardly better!” Jake’s voice is starting to rise in volume. “In my book, that’s worse!” You don’t like this. At all. “This is hardly the time!” Jake shouts, gesturing with his free hand. He frowns, returns to normal volume. Your phone buzzes, facedown on the coffee table. “No, no. My apologies. What I mean to say is that… We both know Cal isn’t the chap for the job, Uncle.” He listens for a moment. “Is… is that your final decision?” Jake swallows, shifting his weight from side to side. “Yes. I- I’ll let you know. Thank you.” He hangs up, putting the phone back in his pocket, and sighs.

“What’s… going on?” you hazard, looking up as Jake turns to you.

“Cal is… AWOL, apparently.” Your throat tightens up.

“That’s. Bad.”

“And--” Jake sighs. “--Uncle refuses to intervene until I make a decision. Regarding my being heir.”

“...Are you going to accept the role?”

“I want to. But I wanted--” He sighs, sitting beside you. “I wanted to ask you first.”

You nod and pick up your phone. A new message from Cal.

TT: What are you planning, you scoundrel?  
uu: OH? TRYING TO BE SOME HERO? FOR YOuR PRINCE?  
uu: VERY FuNNY, JAKE.

Jake scowls, grabbing your phone and responding for you.

TT: Either bugger off or tell us what in the dickens you have planned.  
uu: FATHER WOuLDN’T WANT. SOME DuMB BITCH. AS THE HOMEMAKER.  
uu: THINK ABOuT IT.

Jake tosses your phone onto another couch. “I think I should take the job.”

“You’re sure?” You frown.

He grimaces, nods. “You’ll be safer.” Jake gets up from the couch, running his hands through his hair. You shake your head and stand as well, and he accepts your hug quickly.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?”

“Bringin’ all this up. Makin’ him mad.”

“No, no, it’s no fault of yours.” Jake shakes his head, holding the side of your head and kissing your temple. “He was cross as is, when it was announced I’d be given preference.”

“Okay,” You nod into his shoulder. “I trust you.”

“I’m glad.” You feel Jake take a deep breath. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you say. Something occurs to you. “You think you could put a rule in to kick Cal out of the family? Or threaten that you will if he tries to hurt us?”

“That would be nice,” Jake hums, running his fingers through your hair.

“He wouldn’t be able to do much, afterwards. Almost be funny, y’know? To see someone coddled get all cut off.”

“You know, love,” he says, pulling away, “You’d have power, too.”

“What kind?”

“Anything you want.” Jake moves away from you, getting himself a glass of water. “Give orders, ask favors.”

“I don’t know I need anything much, y’know?” You follow him into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “I don’t want anyone dead, Jake.”

“I know, dear.” He leans against the counter beside you, sipping his water. “But you could have… anything you could think of for your projects. Things you don’t need but want to play with.”

You sold your last project a few weeks ago, a small Roomba-like machine you nicknamed Aftertouch. The AI is considerably better, actually detects dirt instead of just aimlessly wandering, and it has a ‘pet mode.’ It will ask you to pet it at certain intervals. That was Dave’s idea. The company who commissioned it wants you to patent it, so they can make tons more. It seems like a solid endeavor to follow. There is always room for improvement.

You always have room for improvement.

Something cold stabs you in the chest. Your heart rate speeds up, your grip the edge of the countertop with both hands, your knuckles go white. You stare at the floor, eyes wide.

“What if he shows up.”

A glass is placed on the counter beside you.

“Then I’ll protect you.” Jake’s hand covers yours.

“There’s a million possibilities running through my head right now,” you tell the linoleum.

“Tell me about it,” Jake says, sighing.

“I’m not sure if you mean that literally.”

Jake chuckles softly beside you. “I can, if you want to tell me.”

You nod, closing your eyes. “The usual,” you say, “Kidnapping. Breaking in. Getting stopped at the store. Confronted by Cal after class and vanishing.”

“He wouldn’t dare.” Jake lets go of your hand, and when you open your eyes, he’s standing in front of you, chewing his lip and frowning.

“I feel like he would, though.”

“I…” Jake sighs again. “I know. I won’t let him.”

“You don’t know where he is.”

“I don’t.”

“And they’ll find him when you accept.”

“Yessir.”

“He has his phone on him. Wouldn’t take too long.”

“I’m sure it’ll be quick as a wink, love.”

“You don’t sound too sure.” Jake sighs, lifting you away from the counter and kissing the side of your head. He pulls you into a hug again; you take a few deep breaths.

“There’s nothing to fret over yet,” he murmurs, “I want to be sure you’re going to be safe.”

You nod into his shoulder; maybe you’ll un-tense in the next few days. “What if it’s not safe here? He--” Your voice catches. “-- he has our address, he was here this morning.”

“Then I’ll take you somewhere safe. If you want to, that is.”

“That would…” Your stomach churns. “Be for the best.”

“Okay.” Jake holds you by the shoulders, giving what you think is a reassuring smile. “Alright, love. Pack up some things?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your voice is faint. “Yeah, let me do that.” You pull away from Jake and head towards your room. You find a backpack in the closet and stuff the essentials inside - clothes, toiletries, chargers. When you go back downstairs, Jake is waiting by the door, coat on, has a duffel bag in hand. You’re not sure where he got it from. You duck into the kitchen to grab your meds, stuffing those into the bag as well.

You go back to the door; Jake has your coat already, and helps you into it, kissing your cheek after. He opens the door, leading you out to the Jeep. You can’t help but look around for danger, for the possibility that Cal is still here, to convince yourself that the cold air stinging your lungs is a justification of your fear as you lock the door. Jake tosses his bag into the back, taking your backpack and doing the same. He gets in the front seat, and you get to the passengers. You should have brought a pair of gloves. You haven’t left your driveway, but it’s too late to get a pair of gloves. Did you turn off the lights? Is your computer still on? What if you left the stove on? Did you use the stove? Did you eat today? Is there food in the car? You have food in your closet, it’s too late to go back to your closet.

“It’s going to be okay.” You jump as Jake takes your hand, and looks guilty when he sees how worked up you are.

“Just a little concerning when you’ve got the son of a mob boss after you, and the protege of said mob boss is protecting you.” You didn’t think your voice would come out that strong. Go you.

“My apologies, really.” He still looks guilty. You hate making him feel bad, you knew you were bad for him, why does he stay with you? “I- I really shouldn’t have gotten you into this.”

“It’s--” You have to stop to keep your voice from breaking. “--It’s not your fault. I asked too many questions.”

Jake turns on the car, giving you another sad look. “You deserved to know,” he says. You shrug.

“I guess.” Something occurs to you. “...Where are we going?”

“There’s…” Jake trails off, thinking. “Well. There’s two places. Maybe three.” Three? That’s more than you were expecting. You shift in your seat, glancing out the window. Still nothing. Still a sunny March morning, with clouds threatening to cover the sun. “We could go to Jane’s, she could probably put us up for a few days. Or a hotel. Or--” Jake sighs. “-- Or the mansion.”

That’s an option? “I- I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.” Jake nods. “If. If you think it’ll be safer, though…”

“It would be,” he says, “But if you don’t feel safe there, we can go to Jane’s, or a hotel, and that’s in order of safety.”

“I don’t think Jane would want to receive us so suddenly.” You don’t want to bother her. She’s called you annoying before. It wasn’t her fault.

“I think she’d understand the circumstances.”

“I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Alrighty then,” Jake says, nodding. The heating is starting to be too much. You turn the temperature down a few notches. “A hotel, or the house.”

“What’s the house like?”

Jake gestures with his hands. “Big mansion. We’d likely have an entire wing to ourselves.” That’s good. “And there’s guards posted. I grew up with them. We can trust them.” If this is the safest option…

“That sounds like it would be for the best.”

“Are you sure, lovely?” He takes your hand again, but you’re expecting it this time.

“If you trust the guards, then yes.” No, you have more conditions. You pull your hand away and stare at your lap, fidgeting. “If I’ll be left alone. If there’s enough space to be alone. And if I won’t see Cal or your uncle unexpectedly - if Cal’s like that, then your uncle would be the tip of the iceberg, and I really don’t want to have to deal with that.”

“Dirk.” You glance up. Jake’s giving you a serious look. “Breathe.” You nod, releasing the breath you knew full well you were holding. “Cal won’t be in the house, and I’ll keep Uncle away from you. I promise that.”

“Okay. Yeah.” You sit up a little straighter in your chair, nodding. “That sounds good.”

“Alrighty, love.” He pecks you on the cheek, starting to pull out of the driveway. You make sure to fasten your seatbelt. You wouldn’t want to make things harder for Jake by crashing through the windshield, should you get into an accident.

The drive is long. Over an hour. You’re restless, the radio is too quiet to hear fully, the houses get larger and more spread out the further you go. Jake only takes back roads for this. You pass into a neighborhood 45 minutes into the drive, the houses getting larger and larger, the architecture getting more and more classic. At the end of the lane, there’s an enormous house, white with dark green curtains, and this is where Jake slows down, pulling into an infinite driveway with at least seven cars parked in it already. He stops the car and turns it off, gets out and grabs his bag and your backpack, throwing them over his shoulder.

You feel delayed. Your movements are disconnected. You are aware of stepping onto the asphalt before you’re aware of the door opening. More aware of the cold in your lungs once again than you are of breathing. Are you breathing? Probably. You follow Jake as he walks up to the large double doors, passing the other cars. Many have license plates from different states, some have ones from other countries. You walk a little closer to Jake.  There are snakes carves in the dark wood of the doors. Jake takes your hand and squeezes it.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says. It’s the first thing either have you said since your driveway. He knocks on the door exactly twice, and enters without waiting, pulling you along. There’s a sharply dressed man in a green suit by the door in a purple bowler hat. Jake abruptly drops your hand, and becomes another person. His posture changes completely, chest out, standing taller. “Clover, old chap, stand up to see you again!” His accent changes, too, thicker and more jovial. “Take Dirk here to my rooms, why don’t you? I have to speak with my uncle.” He hands you your backpack without a second glance.

The man in front of you, Clover, stares at you. He’s shorter than you. His hat clashes with his suit. He’s looking at you like he’s trying to figure you out. Like you’re a puzzle. He nods and leads you down the hallway, as Jake goes in the other direction. The walls are covered in green wallpaper and various portraits of people you assume are old heads of the mob. Clover leads you to a door and opens it, before leaving you. He seems to vanish into the walls. You go into the room.

This might as well be an apartment. There are framed posters on the walls of movies you remember Jake being completely obsessed with. There isn’t one for _Avatar_ ; you assume it’s somewhere else in the rooms. Everything has a fine layer of dust on everything - on the kitchen counters, on the couch, on the doorknob to what you assume is Jake’s room. And boy, is it. There’s a large bed in the center, covered in dust like everything else, and the flatscreen and DVD collection makes your collection at home pale in comparison. Despite yourself, you laugh. Jake hasn’t changed much since high school. You put your bag down and sit in a comfortable corner of the floor, pull out your phone, and try to occupy yourself for a little while. You text Callie for a while - she tells you who to avoid, and what the best locations in the house are.

You’re not sure how much time passes before Jake comes into the room, with a black eye and small cut on his cheek. You jump to your feet, worried.

“...How’d it go?” you ask slowly, concerned.

“Better than I expected!” Jake says, smiling. He pecks you on the cheek. “He agreed to leave you be.”

“That’s… good.” You frown. “D’you need anything for your eye? You look a little. Beat up.”

“Oh--” Jake touches the bruise. “I completely forgot. It’ll clear up on it’s own.” He pulls you over to the couch in the other room. “My apologies for making you wait.” You wave him off and shake your head as you sit. He sits beside you, shifting nervously and chewing his lip.

“What is it?” Your frown deepens, your eyebrows furrow.

“I’m nervous.” Yeah, you expected this. “I’m--” He laughs. “I’m the heir to the fucking mob. And I brought you in.”

“I know.” You hold his hand, squeezing it briefly. “But I’m not gonna be part of it, y’know? Gonna try to stay out of it as best I can. Been talkin’ to Callie for advice.”

“Really?” Jake brightens up. “That’s a great idea! What’s she said?”

You glance down at your phone. Callie’s light grey text smiles back at you.

“She thinks I’d like someone called Stitch?”

“Oh, yes!” He smiles at you. “He’s a good chap - our tailor, so to speak. You might like to talk about sewing. He’d like that embroidery of yours.”

“Tips and tricks, maybe,” you hum, before looking up at him, “Are you sure you’re alright? You- you changed when you were talking to Clover.”

Jake gives you an apologetic little smile. “Thicker accent, right?” You nod. “Most of these folks are-- they’re from England, like myself, and I grew up with them. They… bring it out of me, U suppose?”

You hum again. You’ve seen other people do that - hell, you’ve done that - but it’s still jarring. “You were a totally different person.”

“I am, in a way,” Jake says, “I mean… Do you think I could- do what I do and come home to you all fine and dandy without drawing lines in who I am?”

“I can’t see you as any kind of tough mob boss.” You take Jake’s hand; he laces your fingers together with a smile.

“I haven’t the slightest idea how I’m supposed to manage it either.”

“You’re not menacing, and definitely not cruel.”

“And I never would be to you.”

“...What did you mean, when you told your uncle to leave me alone?” If he’s anything like Cal, then you don’t know what you’ll do.

“I meant he’s not to pester you. Or threaten.” Sounds pretty good. Sounds like something he could find a loophole in. Sounds like someone related to Cal could find a loophole in. “The conversation was much longer than that, though. Though he…” Jake gestures towards his face. “Doesn’t like being told what to do. He’s a cad, but. The business runs on kept deals. And if he breaks it in any way, let me know!”

“Does this extend to Cal?” Can you think of anything else? Probably not. You tend to fixate. “And- And are they already looking for him?”

Jake nods. “Uncle’s sent out a few men. And Cal- isn’t allowed in the house anymore.” Oh. Nice. “I told my uncle I wouldn’t live in the same house as him, nor work with him. And when he’s found, he’ll be removed from the family.” You raise an eyebrow. “Not killed, though!” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I know you wouldn’t want that.”

“...Right,” you say, taking a deep breath and running a hand through your hair, “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“If- if you change your mind on that, er, let me know!”

“Not too big on the whole ‘killing’ thing.” Jake nods beside you, removing his hand from yours and putting his arm around your waist instead. You’re quiet for a moment; you think about your two-story townhouse, with its white siding and brown shutters, the little garden and your security room. Jake is going to be the next leader of this group. He’ll have to live here. You’re marrying Jake in June. You’ll have to live here. Did you leave the lights on? You’re over an hour away. “Are we going to have to move in?”

“It’s part of the deal, yes,” Jake says, pulling you closer, “I can… find you a nearby apartment, if you don’t want to stay here.”

“It’s a nice place,” you mutter, staring at your feet.

“It’s the base of a criminal organization.”

“That too.”

“It’s up to you,” Jake says. You hate how understanding he is. How he’s leaving the decisions up to you and making sure you’re okay on every step of this shitshow.

“I still want to live with you.”

“I want that too. But I want you to feel safe, too.”

“I mean.” You shrug. “If Cal’s kicked out, y’know. Got that taken care of.” You try to relax into Jake’s side. “Don’t know anybody here, either.”

“You will soon,” Jake says, “They’ll like you! You’re smart and handy and know how to hold your own.” Not that you want to know how.

“And I’m shorter than average and my voice gets high when I’m nervous.” Your leg is also bouncing pretty quickly.  Weren’t you trying to relax? Whatever. “Maybe you could use a tech expert.”

“I like that idea! And I like you.” Jake leans in, pecking your lips. You smile despite yourself. “If you’re not too opposed to working for your husband!”

Husband. Wow. That’s going to be a real thing.

“I don’t think I mind,” you say.

“Brilliant!” Jake kisses you quickly again. “Thank you.”

“Hey, uh.” You’re going to ruin this conversation. “What will you do if he does come after me?”

“Kill him. If he hurts you.” Jake’s eyes harden, the arm around your side pulls you closer..

“I wasn’t referring to Cal.”

“My answer doesn’t change. If he hurts you, if anyone hurts you--” Jake stops. Shakes his head. “You don’t want to hear me talk like this.”

You bite your lip, furrowing your brow and feeling your stomach twist. “What does he look like?”

“My uncle?” Jake raises an eyebrow. “Like Cal, just- older. Missing a leg. Muscular as the dickens. Has an overcoat similar to my own.” You think you’ve got an image in your head. Not an image you like, but an image. “He doesn’t go out much, anymore. No reason to.” That means he’s always in the mansion.

“I’ll be sure to watch out, then. Don’t want to cross paths with anyone too unpleasant.” You’ll probably be alright. You shrug. “That Clover guy didn’t seem horrible.”

“He’s pretty okay! A little randy, though, so. Beware his advances.” Oh. You don’t like that. You run a hand through you hair.

“Feels like it’s been a long fuckin’ day,” you sigh; Jake hums. “And it’s barely one. Still got ages left in the day, what’re we supposed to even do?” You might as well be talking to yourself, Jake isn’t responding. “Don’t wanna- I dunno, don’t want to make you feel like I’m askin’ too many questions or anything but--” You hate being annoying. You’re being annoying. You being pushy and annoying is what got you into this mess in the first place. You clear your throat. “D’you think you could show me around the safer parts of the house?”

Jake squeezes you for a moment, and when he presses a kiss to your temple, you can feel him smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

* * *

The halls of the mansion have high ceilings, the walls covered in dark green wallpaper, clocks lining the spaces between windows. You’re not a fan. The portraits are staring at you. You and Jake walk quietly, hands linked. He stops, pointing at a portrait of an old man with a handlebar mustache holding a large, old fashioned rifle.

“That’s the man I was named after. My great grandfather,” he says. You study the portrait. The man could easily be Jake in 40 years.

“Jacob, I presume?” He nods.

“Jacob Alexander English.” He sighs, bitterly. “Hero and adventurer. And a portrait in a mafia base seventy years later. He’d be ashamed. Angry. That we’ve come to this.”

You frown. “Hopefully not with you.” He shakes his head.

“Likely with me, too.” You open your mouth to argue, but Jake raises a hand and shakes his head. “I made my choices, darling. I don’t mind.” You sigh. You can’t convince him otherwise, it won’t work. The two of you continue down the hall.

A door off to the side opens and you freeze as a tall man in a green suit, this one with a maroon hat, walks out. He stares at you, holding a crowbar over his shoulder. You take a half step back.  He glances at Jake.

“Who’s this,” he says, voice flat and uninterested. Jake straightens up, becomes the other Jake. Better posture, set jaw, thicker accent.

“Crowbar, old chum!” he greets, a broad grin overtaking his face. He drops your hand. “What a way to greet a member of the family after so long!” He steps aside, gesturing to you. “This is Dirk. He’s. My fiance.” There’s hesitation in his voice.

“Sticks out like a sore thumb,” Crowbar says, voice gruff, “Welcome to the family, kid.” And he walks away. Goes down the hall, turns a corner. He’s right, though. You don’t blend in. By the looks of it, you’re the only blond in the house, natural or not. Once he’s gone, you slowly unfreeze, shoulders stiff.

“He wasn’t… horrible,” you say slowly, and Jake nods, taking your hand again and squeezing it.

“No, he’s not. A little grumpy, though. Stay out of his way if he hasn’t eaten.” Jake relaxes as well, posture normal again. “He’ll be there if you need him. The two of you might get along!” You smile when he does.

Jake leads you through a small covered walkway, towards a small door glass door. He winks at you as he pulls a key from his pocket, unlocking the door and opening it for you. This is the greenhouse, you realize. It’s warm in here - it smells earthy. The walkways are wooden, faded and old, but comfortable. The plants are green, like everything else in this house, but it’s a chlorophyll green, not a deep velvet and envy green. It’s loved, is what it is. This greenhouse is loved.

“Looks like your grandma’s place,” you say, taking a deep breath. You missed plant life. Winter always does that to you.

“It’s what I based it off of,” Jake says, staying behind as you wander the walkways of the greenhouse, examining plants and flowers. “It’s where I’d come if I had been on a trip. Always helped me wind down.”

You nod, sighing slightly. Jake always would tell you he was going on trips - started in junior year of high school, right at the start of the second term. You look back to see him affectionately lift up the leaves of a lily plant, smiling to himself.

“It’s nice in here,” you say. Jake straightens up and walks over to you, leading you over to a wooden bench in an alcove. “Nice place to sit and think.”

“It’s my favorite place that isn’t with you.”

“That was super fuckin’ sappy, dude.” Damn, you’re blushing.

“I mean it,” he assures, sitting down with you and leaning against your shoulder. You lean into him as well, and his hand finds yours. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“If I’m gonna be around here more often, I might as well,” you say, shrugging. He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“You didn’t have to stick with me through all this, though.” Jake’s getting like this again. Doubting himself. You frown.

“I’m not wearing this ring ‘cause I think it’s the prettiest fuckin’ jewlery I’m gonna own, Jake,” you scoff, nudging him, “I’m wearing it ‘cause I love you. And want to stay with you. Dumbass.” You duck your head to kiss him.

Jake laughs through the kiss, cupping your cheek with his free hand. He smiles at you when he pulls back.

“How long have we been together, again?” he asks. Jake knows the answer. But you know it better.

“Two and a half years,” you say, and Jake gives you a look. He wanted more specifics, okay. You can do more specifics. “Two years, nine months, one week, 1 day. Not that I’m counting.”

Jake sighs softly, giving you a warm look. “Best years of my life.”

“Mine as well,” you say, and he kisses you sweetly. You savor the moment, closing your eyes and only opening them when you feel Jake pull away. “You’re sweet to me.”

“I _am_ awfully fond of you.” You roll your eyes and push Jake lightly.

“Can’t fuckin’ imagine why.”

“So many reasons!” God, you love his smile. You kiss him again and he squeezes your hand.

The greenhouse door opens.

Jake is on his feet immediately, hand dropping yours, putting distance between you two. Another man in a green suit comes through the door, short, wearing a yellow bowler hat. Jake stands a little straighter.

“Ah, Itchy, hello,” he says, stiff and awkward.

“They found him,” is all Itchy says in response.

“Ah.” Jake sighs softly. “Brilliant. Is he-- the usual place?”

“Big man’s office?” Itchy glances at you, tilting his head like a puppy hearing a strange noise. Like he’s trying to figure you out. He glances back to Jake. “Yep, same place as always.” And he leaves. Disappears through the greenhouse door quicker than you can blink. Jake turns back to you, posture relaxing.

“I suppose I should take care of that.”

“Should…” you start, standing up, “D’you want me to come with? Get meeting your uncle out of the way and everything?”

“You don’t have to.” Jake runs a hand through his hair, glancing back at the door. “Whatever you think is best.”

“Could get it out of the way,” you say, shrugging. Jake nods.

“Alright, love,” he says, “Come on, then. Let’s go meet the boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol  
> might go back to fix up some stuff later, but i really had to get this one out before i leave for school  
> speaking of: updates will be a little slow(er) after this one, both for life and for plot


	4. Quick update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick author's note. This uh. Ain't continuin'.

Alright, so, I knew this was going to happen. I started writing this and knew I'd lose interest or get bored or lose the plot somewhere. It's been a hot minute since I've updated, and I can't see myself updating again. I also generally didn't like where it was going:

caliborn is like "uh so hey I'm? Gonna attack your husband" when they meet LE and Jake's like "no fucking way" and y'know. Kills him. It's fine. Dirk has a lil freakout cause uh he was getting assaulted and then his fiance killed his attacker. But IDK. They stay together. Jake becomes mafia head. Dirk because cohead of the mafia.

So, I dunno. I didn't like where it was going and where it had been heading. Sorry to those of you who had wanted to read this to the conclusion, but there never really was a conclusion to begin with. I was also unsatisfied with my characterization of basically everyone. That's my own fault there lol.

Updates have been sporadic on  _Separate Peace_ because that was supposed to be a oneshot. I'll get back to it when I can.  ~~ngl I've also found myself kinda falling out of/losing interest in writing Homestuck fic. Kinda got a new fixation taking up my thinkspace.~~ I'm gonna take this one out of the tags and other private it or just leave it complete and abandoned, though I have abandoning fics, I feel like it makes the page look unkempt. 

Thanks to those of y'all who commented and kudos'ed this one, but I can't see myself coming back to it. Seey'all in the next chapter of  _Separate Peace,_ whenever that is. <3


	5. Another Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lmao

hello all.

i cant promise that thisll actually update but i am so filled with like. absolute rage that i might as well finish it and make everyone as happy as they can be or at least get them some fucking therapy, because lord knows they cant have it in canon. if canon even exists. its all bullshit and im filled with spite. possibly expect something from separate peace as well. that may be more likely to update but at the moment im really not feeling anything sweet or cute or whatever. yeah i make dirk go through some shit but its not like he became a fucking megalomaniac. 

anyway, there might be something more from this. seeyall then.

-leafstitch

**Author's Note:**

> should be updating soon! i like to stay one chapter ahead of every update and wanna finish a few chapters before i get there. leave comments and kudos! i look forward to your feedback <3


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